Come queen of months in company
Wi all thy merry minstrelsy
The restless cuckoo absent long
And twittering swallows chimney song
And hedge row crickets notes that run
From every bank that fronts the sun
And swathy bees about the grass
That stops wi every bloom they pass
And every minute every hour
Keep teazing weeds that wear a flower
And toil and childhoods humming joys
For there is music in the noise
The village childern mad for sport
In school times leisure ever short
That crick and catch the bouncing ball
And run along the church yard wall
Capt wi rude figured slabs whose claims
In times bad memory hath no names
Oft racing round the nookey church
Or calling ecchos in the porch
And jilting oer the weather ****
Viewing wi jealous eyes the clock
Oft leaping grave stones leaning hights
Uncheckt wi mellancholy sights
The green grass swelld in many a heap
Where kin and friends and parents sleep
Unthinking in their jovial cry
That time shall come when they shall lye
As lowly and as still as they
While other boys above them play
Heedless as they do now to know
The unconcious dust that lies below
The shepherd goes wi happy stride
Wi moms long shadow by his side
Down the dryd lanes neath blooming may
That once was over shoes in clay
While martins twitter neath his eves
Which he at early morning leaves
The driving boy beside his team
Will oer the may month beauty dream
And **** his hat and turn his eye
On flower and tree and deepning skye
And oft bursts loud in fits of song
And whistles as he reels along
Cracking his whip in starts of joy
A happy ***** driving boy
The youth who leaves his corner stool
Betimes for neighbouring village school
While as a mark to urge him right
The church spires all the way in sight
Wi cheerings from his parents given
Starts neath the joyous smiles of heaven
And sawns wi many an idle stand
Wi bookbag swinging in his hand
And gazes as he passes bye
On every thing that meets his eye
Young lambs seem tempting him to play
Dancing and bleating in his way
Wi trembling tails and pointed ears
They follow him and loose their fears
He smiles upon their sunny faces
And feign woud join their happy races
The birds that sing on bush and tree
Seem chirping for his company
And all in fancys idle whim
Seem keeping holiday but him
He lolls upon each resting stile
To see the fields so sweetly smile
To see the wheat grow green and long
And list the weeders toiling song
Or short note of the changing thrush
Above him in the white thorn bush
That oer the leaning stile bends low
Loaded wi mockery of snow
Mozzld wi many a lushing thread
Of crab tree blossoms delicate red
He often bends wi many a wish
Oer the brig rail to view the fish
Go sturting by in sunny gleams
And chucks in the eye dazzld streams
Crumbs from his pocket oft to watch
The swarming struttle come to catch
Them where they to the bottom sile
Sighing in fancys joy the while
Hes cautiond not to stand so nigh
By rosey milkmaid tripping bye
Where he admires wi fond delight
And longs to be there mute till night
He often ventures thro the day
At truant now and then to play
Rambling about the field and plain
Seeking larks nests in the grain
And picking flowers and boughs of may
To hurd awhile and throw away
Lurking neath bushes from the sight
Of tell tale eyes till schools noon night
Listing each hour for church clocks hum
To know the hour to wander home
That parents may not think him long
Nor dream of his rude doing wrong
Dreading thro the night wi dreaming pain
To meet his masters wand again
Each hedge is loaded thick wi green
And where the hedger late hath been
Tender shoots begin to grow
From the mossy stumps below
While sheep and cow that teaze the grain
will nip them to the root again
They lay their bill and mittens bye
And on to other labours hie
While wood men still on spring intrudes
And thins the shadow solitudes
Wi sharpend axes felling down
The oak trees budding into brown
Where as they crash upon the ground
A crowd of labourers gather round
And mix among the shadows dark
To rip the crackling staining bark
From off the tree and lay when done
The rolls in lares to meet the sun
Depriving yearly where they come
The green wood pecker of its home
That early in the spring began
Far from the sight of troubling man
And bord their round holes in each tree
In fancys sweet security
Till startld wi the woodmans noise
It wakes from all its dreaming joys
The blue bells too that thickly bloom
Where man was never feared to come
And smell smocks that from view retires
**** rustling leaves and bowing briars
And stooping lilys of the valley
That comes wi shades and dews to dally
White beady drops on slender threads
Wi broad hood leaves above their heads
Like white robd maids in summer hours
Neath umberellas shunning showers
These neath the barkmens crushing treads
Oft perish in their blooming beds
Thus stript of boughs and bark in white
Their trunks shine in the mellow light
Beneath the green surviving trees
That wave above them in the breeze
And waking whispers slowly bends
As if they mournd their fallen friends
Each morning now the weeders meet
To cut the thistle from the wheat
And ruin in the sunny hours
Full many wild weeds of their flowers
Corn poppys that in crimson dwell
Calld ‘head achs’ from their sickly smell
And carlock yellow as the sun
That oer the may fields thickly run
And ‘iron ****’ content to share
The meanest spot that spring can spare
Een roads where danger hourly comes
Is not wi out its purple blooms
And leaves wi points like thistles round
Thickset that have no strength to wound
That shrink to childhoods eager hold
Like hair—and with its eye of gold
And scarlet starry points of flowers
Pimpernel dreading nights and showers
Oft calld ‘the shepherds weather glass’
That sleep till suns have dyd the grass
Then wakes and spreads its creeping bloom
Till clouds or threatning shadows come
Then close it shuts to sleep again
Which weeders see and talk of rain
And boys that mark them shut so soon
will call them ‘John go bed at noon
And fumitory too a name
That superstition holds to fame
Whose red and purple mottled flowers
Are cropt by maids in weeding hours
To boil in water milk and way1
For washes on an holiday
To make their beauty fair and sleak
And scour the tan from summers cheek
And simple small forget me not
Eyd wi a pinshead yellow spot
I’th’ middle of its tender blue
That gains from poets notice due
These flowers the toil by crowds destroys
And robs them of their lowly joys
That met the may wi hopes as sweet
As those her suns in gardens meet
And oft the dame will feel inclind
As childhoods memory comes to mind
To turn her hook away and spare
The blooms it lovd to gather there
My wild field catalogue of flowers
Grows in my ryhmes as thick as showers
Tedious and long as they may be
To some, they never weary me
The wood and mead and field of grain
I coud hunt oer and oer again
And talk to every blossom wild
Fond as a parent to a child
And cull them in my childish joy
By swarms and swarms and never cloy
When their lank shades oer morning pearls
Shrink from their lengths to little girls
And like the clock hand pointing one
Is turnd and tells the morning gone
They leave their toils for dinners hour
Beneath some hedges bramble bower
And season sweet their savory meals
Wi joke and tale and merry peals
Of ancient tunes from happy tongues
While linnets join their fitful songs
Perchd oer their heads in frolic play
Among the tufts of motling may
The young girls whisper things of love
And from the old dames hearing move
Oft making ‘love knotts’ in the shade
Of blue green oat or wheaten blade
And trying simple charms and spells
That rural superstition tells
They pull the little blossom threads
From out the knapweeds button heads
And put the husk wi many a smile
In their white bosoms for awhile
Who if they guess aright the swain
That loves sweet fancys trys to gain
Tis said that ere its lain an hour
Twill blossom wi a second flower
And from her white ******* hankerchief
Bloom as they ne’er had lost a leaf
When signs appear that token wet
As they are neath the bushes met
The girls are glad wi hopes of play
And harping of the holiday
A hugh blue bird will often swim
Along the wheat when skys grow dim
Wi clouds—slow as the gales of spring
In motion wi dark shadowd wing
Beneath the coming storm it sails
And lonly chirps the wheat hid quails
That came to live wi spring again
And start when summer browns the grain
They start the young girls joys afloat
Wi ‘wet my foot’ its yearly note
So fancy doth the sound explain
And proves it oft a sign of rain
About the moor ‘**** sheep and cow
The boy or old man wanders now
Hunting all day wi hopful pace
Each thick sown rushy thistly place
For plover eggs while oer them flye
The fearful birds wi teazing cry
Trying to lead their steps astray
And coying him another way
And be the weather chill or warm
Wi brown hats truckd beneath his arm
Holding each prize their search has won
They plod bare headed to the sun
Now dames oft bustle from their wheels
Wi childern scampering at their heels
To watch the bees that hang and swive
In clumps about each thronging hive
And flit and thicken in the light
While the old dame enjoys the sight
And raps the while their warming pans
A spell that superstition plans
To coax them in the garden bounds
As if they lovd the tinkling sounds
And oft one hears the dinning noise
Which dames believe each swarm decoys
Around each village day by day
Mingling in the warmth of may
Sweet scented herbs her skill contrives
To rub the bramble platted hives
Fennels thread leaves and crimpld balm
To scent the new house of the swarm
The thresher dull as winter days
And lost to all that spring displays
Still mid his barn dust forcd to stand
Swings his frail round wi weary hand
While oer his head shades thickly creep
And hides the blinking owl asleep
And bats in cobweb corners bred
Sharing till night their murky bed
The sunshine trickles on the floor
Thro every crevice of the door
And makes his barn where shadows dwell
As irksome as a prisoners cell
And as he seeks his daily meal
As schoolboys from their tasks will steal
ile often stands in fond delay
To see the daisy in his way
And wild weeds flowering on the wall
That will his childish sports recall
Of all the joys that came wi spring
The twirling top the marble ring
The gingling halfpence hussld up
At pitch and toss the eager stoop
To pick up heads, the smuggeld plays
Neath hovels upon sabbath days
When parson he is safe from view
And clerk sings amen in his pew
The sitting down when school was oer
Upon the threshold by his door
Picking from mallows sport to please
Each crumpld seed he calld a cheese
And hunting from the stackyard sod
The stinking hen banes belted pod
By youths vain fancys sweetly fed
Christning them his loaves of bread
He sees while rocking down the street
Wi weary hands and crimpling feet
Young childern at the self same games
And hears the self same simple names
Still floating on each happy tongue
Touchd wi the simple scene so strong
Tears almost start and many a sigh
Regrets the happiness gone bye
And in sweet natures holiday
His heart is sad while all is gay
How lovly now are lanes and balks
For toils and lovers sunday walks
The daisey and the buttercup
For which the laughing childern stoop
A hundred times throughout the day
In their rude ramping summer play
So thickly now the pasture crowds
In gold and silver sheeted clouds
As if the drops in april showers
Had woo’d the sun and swoond to flowers
The brook resumes its summer dresses
Purling neath grass and water cresses
And mint and flag leaf swording high
Their blooms to the unheeding eye
And taper bowbent hanging rushes
And horse tail childerns bottle brushes
And summer tracks about its brink
Is fresh again where cattle drink
And on its sunny bank the swain
Stretches his idle length again
Soon as the sun forgets the day
The moon looks down on the lovly may
And the little star his friend and guide
Travelling together side by side
And the seven stars and charleses wain
Hangs smiling oer green woods agen
The heaven rekindles all alive
Wi light the may bees round the hive
Swarm not so thick in mornings eye
As stars do in the evening skye
All all are nestling in their joys
The flowers and birds and pasture boys
The firetail, long a stranger, comes
To his last summer haunts and homes
To hollow tree and crevisd wall
And in the grass the rails odd call
That featherd spirit stops the swain
To listen to his note again
And school boy still in vain retraces
The secrets of his hiding places
In the black thorns crowded copse
Thro its varied turns and stops
The nightingale its ditty weaves
Hid in a multitude of leaves
The boy stops short to hear the strain
And ’sweet jug jug’ he mocks again
The yellow hammer builds its nest
By banks where sun beams earliest rest
That drys the dews from off the grass
Shading it from all that pass
Save the rude boy wi ferret gaze
That hunts thro evry secret maze
He finds its pencild eggs agen
All streakd wi lines as if a pen
By natures freakish hand was took
To scrawl them over like a book
And from these many mozzling marks
The school boy names them ‘writing larks’
*** barrels twit on bush and tree
Scarse bigger then a bumble bee
And in a white thorns leafy rest
It builds its curious pudding-nest
Wi hole beside as if a mouse
Had built the little barrel house
Toiling full many a lining feather
And bits of grey tree moss together
Amid the noisey rooky park
Beneath the firdales branches dark
The little golden crested wren
Hangs up his glowing nest agen
And sticks it to the furry leaves
As martins theirs beneath the eaves
The old hens leave the roost betimes
And oer the garden pailing climbs
To scrat the gardens fresh turnd soil
And if unwatchd his crops to spoil
Oft cackling from the prison yard
To peck about the houseclose sward
Catching at butterflys and things
Ere they have time to try their wings
The cattle feels the breath of may
And kick and toss their heads in play
The *** beneath his bags of sand
Oft jerks the string from leaders hand
And on the road will eager stoop
To pick the sprouting thistle up
Oft answering on his weary way
Some distant neighbours sobbing bray
Dining the ears of driving boy
As if he felt a fit of joy
Wi in its pinfold circle left
Of all its company bereft
Starvd stock no longer noising round
Lone in the nooks of foddering ground
Each skeleton of lingering stack
By winters tempests beaten black
Nodds upon props or bolt upright
Stands swarthy in the summer light
And oer the green grass seems to lower
Like stump of old time wasted tower
All that in winter lookd for hay
Spread from their batterd haunts away
To pick the grass or lye at lare
Beneath the mild hedge shadows there
Sweet month that gives a welcome call
To toil and nature and to all
Yet one day mid thy many joys
Is dead to all its sport and noise
Old may day where’s thy glorys gone
All fled and left thee every one
Thou comst to thy old haunts and homes
Unnoticd as a stranger comes
No flowers are pluckt to hail the now
Nor cotter seeks a single bough
The maids no more on thy sweet morn
Awake their thresholds to adorn
Wi dewey flowers—May locks new come
And princifeathers cluttering bloom
And blue bells from the woodland moss
And cowslip cucking ***** to toss
Above the garlands swinging hight
Hang in the soft eves sober light
These maid and child did yearly pull
By many a folded apron full
But all is past the merry song
Of maidens hurrying along
To crown at eve the earliest cow
Is gone and dead and silent now
The laugh raisd at the mocking thorn
Tyd to the cows tail last that morn
The kerchief at arms length displayd
Held up by pairs of swain and maid
While others bolted underneath
Bawling loud wi panting breath
‘Duck under water’ as they ran
Alls ended as they ne’er began
While the new thing that took thy place
Wears faded smiles upon its face
And where enclosure has its birth
It spreads a mildew oer her mirth
The herd no longer one by one
Goes plodding on her morning way
And garlands lost and sports nigh gone
Leaves her like thee a common day
Yet summer smiles upon thee still
Wi natures sweet unalterd will
And at thy births unworshipd hours
Fills her green lap wi swarms of flowers
To crown thee still as thou hast been
Of spring and summer months the queen

noong una kitang nasilayan
inaamin kong hindi ikaw ang nais kong kamtan
ngunit habang tumatagal,
puso ko’t loob, sayo’y natuluyan

hindi ko rin alam kung bakit
dahil ba sa boses **** nakakahumaling?
o sa mga matatamis **** mga ngiti?
mistulang nawawala ang iyong mga mata
sa tuwing ito’y iyong gawin
di ko alam, pero simpleng titig mo lamang
ka’y laki na ng epekto nito sa akin
hanggang sa palagi na kitang hinahanap-hanap
aba’t ginayuma mo nga ba ako?

ngunit, kung ano't saya ang nadarama
ganoon din ang kapalit nito kapag nandyan ka
sa mga panahon na wala ka sa tabi
pasakit at dalilubho ang naranas
bakit ba hindi ko kayang sayo ay mawalay?
ngunit kailangan kong magtimpi at alamin
kung hanggang saan lang dapat ang hangarin

ngunit aking nagunita,
ikaw talaga ang natatangi sa puso, at tuwina
ngunit kung gusto ko ring makaalpas sa sakit
kailangan ika’y kalimutan
sa gayon ay baka matagpuan ang kalinaw

pero ang alaala ng kahapon ay sadyang bumalik
kahit saan man magpunta, ika’y naka-aligid
kung alam mo lang ang aking tinahak
pagod, at hirap – naranas upang sayo’y makalapit

ngunit ano ba pa ang magagawa?
sa una pa lang, nagmahal ng isang tala
at kung bigyan man ng pagkakataon
mas pipiliing sarili ay ibaon
lahat ng nararamdaman
na hindi mo rin kayang ipaglaban

dahil hindi mo rin naman ako mahal,
mas mahal mo ang iyong pangarap
at hindi ako yun, ito'y tanggap

sakim man sa kanilang paningin
ikaw lang naman ang gusto ko
ngunit, bakit? bakit…
ipinagkait pa sa akin ng mundo?
pero ito ang nagpapatunay
na kahit gaano pa ako kailangan na maghintay
para sayo'y hindi ako nararapat
dahil tunay nga ba ang aking intensyon?
o ginagawa lamang kitang desisyon?
tingnan mo nga, miski ako may pagdududa

kahit man ito’y pag-ibig natin ay isusugal
kahit gaano ko pa ipagsamo sa Maykapal
wala rin naman itong mahahantungan
hindi rin naman ako ang iyong kailangan

kaya't ito'y hahayaang dalhin ng langit,
kung saan mang lupalop ito'y dalhin
pinaubaya sa Maykapal,
antayin na lang maglaho
ito ang aking huling habilin,
bago kitang tuluyang iwan

pero ito'y mananatiling nakaukit
sa puso't isipan,
dahil kaya nga ba kitang kalimutan?

ito’y magsisilbing alaala
ng minsan nating pagsasama,
kahit sa panaginip lamang

ang ipagtagpo ang isang ikaw at ako,
ang mabuo ang salitang 'tayo' –
napaka-imposible…
napaka-imposible.

eng trans:
when I first saw you
I admit you're not the one I yearn for
but as time passes by
my heart, and mind – fell for you

I don't really know why
is it because of your alluring voice?
or because of your sweet smiles?
it's as if your eyes disappear
whenever you do this
I don't know but in your simple stares
it has a big impact on me
until I'm always looking for you
oh my, did you put a spell on me?

but in what happiness I felt
that's what I also feel whenever you're there
in times that you're not beside me
pain and dreading was experienced
why can't I stand being apart from you?
but I have to resist and know
to where I should stand in line

yet I've realized
you're the one that's always in my heart
but if I want to get rid of this pain
I have to forget you
by then I might find peace

but the memories of yesterday kept coming back
everywhere I go, you're there
if only you knew what I've been through
exhaustion, and rigor – I have to face to get close to you

but what can I do?
from the start, I've loved a star
and if given a chance
I'd rather choose to bury myself,
all these feelings
that you're not even willing to fight for

because you don't even love me,
you love your dream more
and it's not me, I've accepted it

it may be selfish in their eyes
you're the only one I want
yet, why? why...
did the world denied + you from me?
but this just proves
that no matter how long I have to wait
I'm not the one for you
because is my intention real?
or am I just making you a decision?
see? even I have doubts

even if I gamble this love of ours
even if I plea from the Creator
this will just go nowhere ++
I am not the one you need

that's why I'll just let the sky take this
wherever in the heavens this will be held
let the Creator take charge
I'll just wait for it to fade
this is my last will
before I will leave you

but this will remain etched
in my mind, and heart
because can I truly forget you?

this will serve as a memory,
of our once encounter
even if it's just in a dream

for you and me to meet,
to form the word 'us' –
it's so impossible,
**it's impossible

"Striking the match across my thumbnail, it's too slow of an action to me. The sparks stay in the air for too long and I haven't taken a breath in what feels like hours. Snow White couldn't have done it better, she paved the way. You sleep with the enemy, you sleep with the rich, you tear your way in with a calming, sweet smile and they let you in, they always do. The match falls on the heap of limbs. 'Here comes the sun.' ~ Jade Day


DR. NIGHTMARE: Hello? Mr. Nino?

[Dr. Nightmare whistles and snaps his fingers twice]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Are you ready for the procedure?

DO: It’s not like I have a choice now do I?

DR. NIGHTMARE: You always have a choice Mr. Nino. Your very future lies within the consciousness of every decision you may or may not make. With that being said which choice do you think will effectively see that you are better off?

DO: Well neither you or I can predict the future so we might as well continue playing and see what happens.

[Dr. Nightmare chuckles]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Not bad for a young man such as yourself, Mr Nino.

DO: I try. Let us carry on with the procedure now shall we sir?

DR. NIGHTMARE: Oh, yes right. Please fill out these papers to ensure that we have your full consent to conduct any and/or all events of this procedure.

DO: How can I possibly fill out these papers if I am still restrained by this straight jacket?

DR. NIGHTMARE: Oh, how foolish of me to have forgotten.

[Dr. Nightmare then begins unbuckling Do’s straight jacket. He then removes the jacket and passes Do a check pad and a pen with multiple documents. Do then begins to sign them. Dr. Nightmare closely reviews the papers as Do is signing them]

DO: Okay, I’m done.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Great now if you’ll just initial here, here and here we will be ready to go.

[Do finishes initialing his papers and passes them back to Dr. Nightmare.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Thank you Mr. Nino. I’ll give you a couple of minutes to relax while I run and grab my list of questions. You may talk to AnaÏs while she performs a brief blood test on you.

NURSE YUCKI: Thank you, Dr. Nightmare.

[AnaÏs blushes with a slight smile as she twists both of her knees inward. She then walks over to sit in the chair directly across from Do. She pulls out her first aid kit and opens it. She takes out a lancet, some sanitary wipes and some gauze.]

NURSE YUCKI: Hello, Mr. Nino. How are you doing today?

[Anaïs opens a pack of sanitary wipes and begins wiping Do’s right ring finger. She then ****** his finger with the lancet drawing forth small droplets of blood. Do slightly winces in pain. Anaïs then places a small test tube to the test site in which his finger was pricked in order to draw blood.]

DO: Please just call me Do. I’m doing alright I suppose. How about yourself?

NURSE YUCKI: Thank you, Do. I am doing okay though I am quite tired. I have been here since five this morning and it is now a quarter to one.

DO: I can understand how that may be ******* you. Not everyone is a morning person.

NURSE YUCKI: Yeah, you’re right. The pay is great here though so I suppose it is worth dealing with.

DO: Yeah but is that ever really enough? Is that truly all that you want?

NURSE YUCKI: No, of course not. I have dreams just like everybody else. This job exists as just an in the moment thing for me. It is a means to get me by or as most people say “a leg up” in the industry.

DO: Those times are always the most trying.

NURSE YUCKI: You can say that again.

[Anaïs eventually finishes drawing blood from Do’s finger and places a couple of pieces of gauze to it and wrapped a band-aid around it. She then pours the blood sample into a slightly bigger and wider test tube and then places a top over it placing it along with the lancet back into her first aid kit.]

DO: Those times are always the most trying.

[Anaïs laughs. Do slightly smiles in return.]

NURSE YUCKI: I didn’t mean literally silly ha ha.

DO: Hey a little humor never hurt anyone ha ha.

NURSE YUCKI: If that were the case this place would cease to be a business.

[Anaïs and Do both laughed.]

NURSE YUCKI: I don’t mean to be a creep but I think you have really pretty eyes.

[Do was an African-American man with short, curly black hair. He also had dark brown eyes with his skin being the shade of chocolate chip cookie brown. He had a goatee as well.]

DO: Thank you, Anaïs. You’re honestly a lot funnier than I thought plus you are very beautiful.

[Anaïs was a white British woman with long, jet black hair and winter blue eyes. She had fairly tan skin along with a nice figure. She also wore black lipstick and had various tattoos.

NURSE YUCKI: Thank you, Do. So do you ha—

[The door to Do’s padded cell abruptly opens.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Okay, I’m back. Thank you for keeping my patient company Anaïs.

NURSE YUCKI: Oh, you’re welcome, Archie.

[Anaïs stomped very loudly as she walked away.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: I told that ***** I don’t like when people call me Archie in public.

DO: Well, that is your birth name is it not? Besides Anaïs is a really nice woman.

DR. NIGHTMARE: That’s like saying a ****** is a teething ring.

DO: So are you saying you have been sexless for six months or are you asexual?

DR. NIGHTMARE: Hey, who is the doctor here?

DO: I’m just saying. You may be inserting your tongue incorrectly.

[Dr. Nightmare ignores Do’s comments blushing out of embarrassment.]

DR. NIGHTMARE: Well, if you are done fooling around we can begin.

DO: Let’s do it.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Okay, Mr Nino. Your first name is Do, correct?

DO: Yes, sir.

DR. NIGHTMARE: We already know your last name so on to the next question. What is your date of birth?

DO: August 2, 1990

DR. NIGHTMARE: Ah, so you’re twenty-three years old eh?? I thought you were like sixteen.

DO: Ha ha nope but I get that a lot so it’s nothing I’m not used to.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Where are you from?

DO: Springfield, Illinois

DR. NIGHTMARE: Where were you currently living before you came here?

DO: Cordova, Tennessee

DR. NIGHTMARE: Did you like it there?

DO: No, not really. I actually hate it there and am desperate to get away from there and move to a bigger city.

DR NIGHTMARE: Oh? What for may I ask?

DO: To take advantage of more career opportunities to achieve my dreams.

DR. NIGHTMARE: I really like where your head is at kid. Who were you currently living with before you came here?

DO: My mother along with three of my siblings, niece and nephew.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Do you get along with them at all?

DO: When I want to but even then it is just a feigned interest.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Where were you working before you came to this institution?

DO: I was working as a dishwasher and prep cook at my local pancake joint and bakery. The name of the restaurant is Love 'N’ Lust.

DR. NIGHTMARE: That title sounds intriguing. What kind of food do they make there? Do they pay you well for your services?

DO: We make all kinds of foods in the shape and/or imagery of sexually provocative thought patterns. Basically we make cakes in the shapes of genitals, *******, ***, etc… We do this for breakfast, lunch and dinner around the clock. They pay me $7.25 an hour.

DR. NIGHTMARE: I got to take my girlfriend some time soon. You get paid more to do that here. I believe the maximum is $15 an hour in translation from Euro dollars to American dollars.

DO: You won’t regret it sir. There are actually some of restaurants located throughout France.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Thank you, Mr. Nino. I’ll keep that in mind.

DO: You’re welcome, sir.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Do you have any passions, Mr. Nino?

DO: Yes, I do. As a matter of fact I have two passions. They are poetry and disc jockeying.

DR. NIGHTMARE: How long have you been writing poetry and disc jockeying?

DO: I have been writing poetry since November of 2008. I am only just beginning within the disc jockeying field.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What were you like in school, Mr. Nino?

DO: I’ve been to many schools doctor. I require that you be more specific

DR. NIGHTMARE: What was life like for you in high school?

DO: Well, I never actively made the effort to socialize with anyone outside of school simply because I was disinterested. When people would take part in extracurricular activities I would just ignore them and go home. I never even went to my own prom.

DR. NIGHTMARE: And why didn’t you go to your prom?

DO: Because I never had a date nor did I have the courage to ask one of the girls out

DR. NIGHTMARE: Well, I would tell you that I understand but I have no idea what that is like. In my day I was a ****. Everybody knew me. All the girls wanted to talk to me.

DO: Yeah, you’re not helping.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Nino

DO: It’s alright, doctor.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Moving on, what was your life like as you were growing up?

DO: There was lots of domestic violence and unwanted sheriff visits because my mother would always feel the urge to call the police every time I voiced an opinion that she did not agree with. I have even been in physical fights with her, my father, brother, sister and grandmother. I even splashed orange juice in my grandmother's face one time because she was ******* me the *******. There was the occasional use and profiting of the most popular drug at the time by a parent because my father smoked and sold drugs. He hung out with the wrong people a lot of the times mostly people who desired to buy drugs from him. Day in and day out deep down I feel that there are still some grudges floating around. My family won’t let me move past them nor will they let me forget about them. They always like to bring them up every chance that they get. I was also expelled from middle school at the age of fourteen for tossing my gym shorts at the assistant principal when she told me to shut up while I was talking. I felt disrespected and it ****** me off. I didn’t know what else to do. I also took antidepressants at the age of sixteen for crying out loud and when I was twenty I was mugged only just one week shy of my twenty-first birthday. It was a late night and I was walking home.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Sounds like you have had a rather rough life

DO: Yeah, well my life is not as bad compared to others.

DR. NIGHTMARE: That doesn’t matter Mr. Nino. It still counts. What was the name of the antidepressant medication that you were taking for you depression?

DO: I honestly don’t remember. That was so long ago. I’m twenty-three now. I’ll be twenty-four in the summer so that was nearly eight years ago. I do remember my mother making me take medications such as Stratera and Adderall for Attention Deficit Hyper Disorder.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What is your relationship with your family like now?

DO: I only talk to them when I want or need something like most people, but other than that I steer clear of them to avoid confrontation and drama. Drama never falls short in the Nino family.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Why do you think that is, Mr. Nino?

DO: Well, it’s just that when me and my immediate family members are in the same room together I can feel a significant amount of tension, hatred and anger coursing throughout the room. It makes me feel very uncomfortable so I just leave.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What do you fear the most, Mr. Nino?

DO: Abandonment and death

DR. NIGHTMARE: All of which are very powerful and reasonable things to be in fear of. What is your attitude toward the opposite ***? What was it in childhood and later years?

DO: I always took notice of the hot girls and the unbearably **** girls. I just never made the effort to talk to them because most of them ignored me or were stuck up and thought they were higher and mightier than me. In later and considerably more recent years my patience for the opposite *** has lessened greatly with each passing day. It has gotten to the point where I hate romantic relationships leading me to believe that they are a complete waste of time. Marriages are pointless as well. I would operate just fine in a No Strings Attached, Friends With Benefits or a One Night Stand type of deal. At least with those types of relationships an emotional connection is not at all required. I like *****. End of story. I get enough emotional connection through bowel movements.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Are you ambitious, sensitive, inclined to outbursts of temper, domineering, shy, or impatient?

DO: Yes, sir. I am very ambitious. I’m a poet so there is no doubt that I am sensitive. Yes, I do tend to have short, mild outbursts concerning my temper. I get mad when people cut me off or talk over me when I am speaking. I hate when people ignore me and I hate when I try to join a conversation and everyone acts like I am not there. It’s like can’t they see that I am trying to be apart of the conversation. I mean even when I try to socialize and make friends they fail to realize it. It is all alright though. I have learned not to give a **** anymore. Honestly, it is the best way to avoid any drama in life.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What sort of people did you physically allow yourself to be around you prior to arriving at this institution? Were they impatient, bad-tempered, or affectionate?

DO: Affection was far from the equation, doctor. I was around a lot of impatient and bad-tempered people. When I speak of these people I speak mainly about my family, but also some of my co-workers as well. They drove me incredibly insane. I would often go home depressed and dreading the next work day.

DR. NIGHTMARE: How do you sleep?

DO: Most of the time I find it difficult to sleep. I frequently watch Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response or (ASMR) videos to aid in me that and so far it has worked exceedingly well.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What dreams do you have?

DO: I rarely have any happy dreams I’ll tell you that. Most of the dreams I have are of running down dark hallways, chasing shadows, jumping off of cliffs and being unexpectedly attacked by random strangers whether it be physically or verbally. I also tend to have a lot of dreams where I am screaming my head off at the people surrounding me in the dream. I even go so far as to push their heads back a little with the palm of my hand. I was really mad in those dreams. I have a lot of mildly terrifying as well as psychotically depressing dreams. I also tend to have dreams about abandonment.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What illnesses are there in your family background?

DO: Well both of my grandmas are diabetic however one of them has been deceased for six and a half years now. She was English plus she had struggled with breast cancer for years. One of my sisters has been diagnosed as bipolar. I believe I may be bipolar, but just undiagnosed. I am allergic to penicillin. Both of my little brothers have asthma. One of my brothers is allergic to peanut butter.That’s about it. My father has problems with digesting solid foods. I don’t really know all that much about the history of my family’s mental health. There was one time when my mom called the cops on me when I was sixteen. The cop although unlicensed said that he thinks I may be schizophrenic. I didn’t believe a word that he said back then, but eight years later I am now starting to realize the justness of what he said and even starting to believe it.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Have you ever had ***, Mr. Nino?

DO: No, sir. I have not. I do think about it very often though.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Do you watch any **** at all?

DO: Every night.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What kind of **** do you like to watch? Do you have any fetishes?

DO: I like to watch female bodybuilders workout in the ****, I also like to watch regular girls fool around in the **** as do most men. I also enjoy watching lesbian **** as well. My fetishes are women with muscle. I’m talking large muscle mass from the neck down. It just gets me so hot. Another fetish of mine and don’t tell anyone this, but I like to watch women take dumps in the toilet. I don’t however like actually seeing the feces. I only like to see them sitting on the toilet while doing it and hearing the sounds. I do not like seeing what is going on underneath. Other fetishes of mine include women with tattoos, tall women, and also slightly psychotic women though intelligent women.

DR. NIGHTMARE: What are you hoping to get out of these sessions and procedures?

DO: I just seek to be happy again. That is all I ask. That is all I want.

DR. NIGHTMARE: Well this concludes our interview, Mr. Nino. I will run to the lab and decipher you

We'll travel down the old stone path,
Wondering why these things started to change.
We'll walk along the old train tracks,
Thinking of all the words that we once sang.

And it's so hard to stay so young forever,
School and work and life get in the way.
You're just like the last day of summer,
Days feel like weeks, weeks feel like a day.

We'll run amongst the old beech trees,
And count our blessings, dreading August's end.
We'll sing about another time,
When we can be together once again.

And it's so hard to stay so young forever,
School and work and life get in the way.
You're just like the last day of summer,
Days feel like weeks, weeks feel like a day.

The sky is falling
The people are hiding
The jackboots are on their way
A mother is calling
A child is crying
Uncertain they'll live through the day
The tanks, they are treading
Across sovereign borders
Some soldiers are dreading
Their inhumane orders
Though they have an advantage
This war can't be won
And that "collateral damage"
Is somebody's son
The victims of war
Are the poor and the sick
Slaughtered like cattle
For the wealthy and rich

Friday, August 01, 2014, Buttes-Chaumont Parc, Paris, France.



Why do I need feminism? We all have our reasons. We all have our stories. Let me tell you about my day:



I was sitting on a hill in the grass at Buttes-Chaumont park, a lovely historical area in Paris. I wanted to be relatively by myself so I could write in peace and smoke without drawing attention to myself. I’m sitting, book in my lap, a pen and cig between my fingers, when I am approached by a man. My main concern was determining whether or not he was the po-lice, but he had no characteristics of cops. He appeared emotionally stable and had good hygiene so I wasn’t too uncertain, (isn’t it kind of bad how we judge people on that stuff?), still, I wondered what he wanted, dreading having to talk to someone when I was merely trying to write in peace. I figured he was going to ask me for something to smoke.



He didn’t. Instead, he asked if he could sit by me. I look around and scan all the other vacant spaces he could sit instead, making it obvious that there was plenty of room to sit instead of right the **** next to me. It’s a pretty big park. “Si ca ta derange pas?” I wasn’t planning on staying long anyway, but I knew he wouldn’t be dangerous as there were many families and couples and runners and walkers, old friends and young kids playing. I felt safe enough, and he seemed harmless. I figured if anything, I could practice my French, which was always nice.



I said okay. He sat, and for a moment we sat in silence. I made myself a sandwich with baguette and cheese and offered him some. He politely declined. We started talking.



I asked if he was Parisian, and he told me he lived there for a while but was from Afrique. I didn’t catch which country, but I don’t think he specified which region. He asked about me, and I told him I was American, born in DC, but I came to France every so often and it was my first language. We talked about travel. We talked about the chaos in the Middle East, and how it was prophesized in scripture. He told me he was Muslim. I told him I wasn’t religious.



I told him I acknowledged the importance of texts, but I believe our ability to think has evolved in 2000 years and we have more information now than we did then. I told him there was too much life and I could not fit it all into one magic being which sprinkled glitter and said “Let there be” and we were created. I told him I really liked the Asian philosophies of Buddhism and Daoism. We talked about peace. We talked about Human Rights and the beauty of diversity, and how marvelous it was people could live among another in peace.



I said it was cool, and I even said it was cool that even as a black man in Europe and an Arab-American woman, we could talk freely without hostility and social division. We talked about closed-mindedness and Conservativism. I explained cognitive dissonance contributing to conflict, generated by opposing views and resistance/reluctance to consider new ideas. We talked about Psychology. I told him I was a writer and I told him about Cabaret Populaire in Belleville and the poetry community in Paris. I told him I love Paris. We talked again about travel.



He told me he was in Germany last weekend, and I told him I was in Langen Tuesday night. He told me he always wanted to go to the U.S.A. We talked about immigration. We talked about the American Dream. We talked about money. I told him I was proposed to the last time I was in Lebanon. We talked about reasons people marry. I reminded him today was the first of August, which meant I’d been with my boyfriend for two months. We talked about love. We talked about monogamy, polyamory and infidelity. We talked about Islam. We talked about racism.



We were sitting there talking for an hour or so, which I was especially grateful for, because besides having an interesting conversation I was able to speak in French for all of it, as he did not speak English (apparently he spoke German, though). I stood up to leave and told him “Enchanté,” but before I started walking off he motioned for me to look at his phone. I was wondering if he was trying to add me on Facebook or follow me on Instagram or something, but I am instead confronted by a picture on his screen of him laying on his back on a bed, with an ***** ***** as the focal point.



Furious, I asked him “Pourquoi tu ma montre ca?! J’ai pas demande a voir ca!”



The stupid smile on his face disappeared and was replaced by a look of slight hurt, confusion, and surprise.

“Bordelle! C’est dommage—mais c’est ca—des hommes et femmes ne peuvent pas parler normalment, vraiment!”



And for the vile words I wanted to spout, I scoffed instead, too much of a lady to shout or get emotional, but I made sure to call him out and stand my ground, exuding negative energy and making it clear with my few words that that was not okay.



I gave no impression of interest in seeing his ****, so why did he do that? Even if he thought I might want to (hell never) he should have heard me ask or vocally say “yes, you can do that.” However, I did not ask; there were no prompts, hints, innuendos or even suggestive, flirty phrasing that would serve as an indication of ****** interest on my behalf.



I don’t want to be cynical and assume all guys are perverts and avoid any conversation because I’m not a rude person (generally). I’m not sexist. I value conversations and friendships with people without emphasis of gender importance. I try not to assume that everyone is sketchy or has ****** up motives. Some people just want to talk.



I wasn’t going to blatantly ignore or dismiss him because he was a man, nor because he was black, foreign, or Muslim. But where the hell is he from that he was socialized and thought that was appropriate or wanted?

I did not ask. The worst part is that he seemed like a genuinely alright person, but then he had to ruin it by whipping out a **** pic. Gross. What’s even more gross is the sense of entitlement he had, thinking it was acceptable to do that. You are a stranger. And I don’t want to see your ******, you disgusting *******.



I really don’t like assuming **** about people or making generalizations. I’m not going to assimilate one ****** with every group they are assigned to and stereotype against every person of that respective group. But fuckkkk. It’s annoying and disappointing that what I thought was a pleasant talk and exchange of ideas with a friendly stranger was actually a plot to show me his ****. ****.



The moral of this story is to say why feminism is needed, because this happens to people every day. If you still need further assistance understanding, please allow me to elaborate:



1)      I need feminism because it allows me to stand up for myself and feel confident about stating that I’m uncomfortable with unwanted behaviors and I’m not going to tolerate them.



These behaviors include, but are not limited to:



1)      Showing me **** pics

2)      Assuming it’s okay to show a girl you met not even an hour ago a **** pic (Do not even say it’s because of a culture difference, because I know of Frenchies who don’t do that)

3)      Approaching me because I’m sitting alone (I accepted that because I assumed he wasn’t going to violate my mind like that (good thing I don’t have photographic memory) but I didn’t wave over and say “Hey, you look friendly! Come over and talk to me!”)

4)      Asking me how serious things are with my boyfriend

5)      Asking me about my bisexuality—only to invalidate it

6)      Assigning me behavior expectations because of my gender

7)      Trying to control the way I do or do not reproduce

8)      Expecting me to behave a certain way because of my sexuality

9)      Judging me based on my sexuality

10)  Openly discriminating against people and expecting me to be okay with prejudice

11)  Using racist terms… because you’re a racist

12)  Dehumanizing the oppressed





Because I don’t know what you studied about it (wait—most people who disagree with feminism haven’t and are completely misinformed) but:



Feminism is about equality, and it doesn’t feel very equal when I show someone respect but I get no respect in return. And if you associate feminism with fauxminism and misandry, please educate yourself. (If I had Tumblr still, you better believe I would’ve already posted this). To quote the great words of Jay in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back: "Remember, don’t whip your **** out unless she asks."

I wrote about you, day and night
You are my moon, you are my sun
I wished for the day when we would finally unite
Like the stars in the galaxy, shining bright
I was dreading the fact that the day might never come
When you wrap me in your arms and tell me it's fine
When you utter those words and protect me for life
My dread was increasing, my hopes were decreasing
I slowly shattered into a deep despair
Losing all senses of a fulfilled life and hope
I thought that the fantasies and dreams in my head are unrealistic and are merely an illusion
But then there you were, my protector, my hero
You grabbed me right at the end of the cliff and held me tight
You reassured and brought my soul back to life
You were my protector, and I was yours
We are now, now and forever, inseparable
For we suffered too long in the absence of one another